A Series of Destiel Events
by nerdfighter2.0
Summary: Basically a UA (A universe alteration of Supernatural - the change is Destiel being canon, but same story lines). When Jimmy reveals to Dean that Castiel loves him, he's confused, and kind of thrilled. But the complications of their life are constantly tearing them apart. (apologies for the terrible summary)
1. The Revelation

**This is my first fan fiction, so i apologize if it's terrible; comment and review if you have time please; I'd like to know what you think :)**

**Also, I'm sorry this one's so short, it was really a tester chapter and is more like a prologue than a chapter - more chapters will be uploaded soon**

* * *

_They sat at the small hotel table, Jimmy eating away at about three hamburgers at once and Dean feeling mildly sickened at the sight._

_"Do you remember anything about being possessed? Anything at all?" Sam pressed, eager for some useful information. _

_"Hm- Bits and pieces. Angel inside of you, it's kind of like being tied to a comet." Jimmy replied off-handily between bites of his hamburgers. _

_"Huh, well that doesn't sound like much fun." Dean quipped, still not feeling overly comfortable seeing Cas, but knowing it's not really _Cas.

_His eyes widened in acknowledgement at Dean's words and he nodded enthusiastically. "Understatement."_

_Sam leaned forward in earnest, getting straight to the point. "…Cas said he wanted to tell us something. Please tell me you remember that"_

_Jimmy lifted his shoulders in a silent 'I don't know,' before replying with, "Sorry,"_

_In response, Dean rolled his eyes and asked, "Come on- what do you know?"_

* * *

Jimmy looked at Dean, then at Sam, and then Dean again, as if weighing his options. After briefly closing his eyes in nervousness, he turned toward Dean and stammered, "Uh- well I don't... know if it's relevant to the situation." He hedged, gaze flickering over Dean in equal parts consideration and scrutiny, but he didn't meet his eyes.

Dean's curiosity piqued. The solemn conversation he'd had with Castiel had left him with a twist in his stomach and an ache in his gut at the pained_ longing_ that was so blatant in his expression. He wanted to know what had caused such an emotion in his usually stoic angel, and he had a feeling that whatever Jimmy wasn't telling them could satiate that. He chanced a glance over at Sam who was sharing an understanding look with Jimmy, and it only confused him further. What did Sam think he knew about any of this that Dean didn't? "I don't give a rat's ass if it's relevant, Jimmy, if you think you know something about Cas then we want to hear it."

Jimmy looked to his little brother as if seeking approval, which Sam gave through a curt nod. Seriously, what the Hell was going on? Finally he turned to Dean, and the hunter couldn't help but notice that the man's eyes weren't as vibrantly blue as he remembered. Huh. Maybe that was an angel thing. Or a Cas thing.

_Like your sexuality, _came a voice inside his head. He shook it away. So not the time for that.

"It's just that um.. Castiel, he uh, he loves you." Jimmy revealed, face contorted like he was bracing for impact, that, to be honest, in any other situation, would've been hilarious. But Dean wasn't paying attention to anything but the roar of the tide that was crashing in his ears, and the echo of _he loves you_ in his mind. He swallowed the retorts that sat at the back of his throat, the first one being _are you shitting me?_ because Castiel was- well he was Castiel, the angel who pulled his sorry ass out of Hell, who had saved him more times than he could count by now, who, for a guy who was supposed to be an emotionless dick, was so painfully open, yet so frustratingly secretive and possibly the most complicated contradiction that Dean had ever had the agitation of trying to figure out. But Jimmy and Sam were both looking at him with expectant and cautious expressions, so Dean knew that they were not, in fact, shitting him.

As the silence stretched out, Jimmy became more anxious and eventually raised his hands in a panicked defense. "I'm only telling you what I know; I may have only picked up on bits and pieces of what was happening, but Castiel's feelings were always explicit to me." He blurted, words tumbling out of his mouth in a desperate attempt to elaborate before he was punched in the face by the hunter. Once again, Dean distantly noted how funny this would all seem had it not been happening to _him. _

Which is why Dean shot a dirty glare at Sam, who was currently looking as if he couldn't decide whether to be relieved that someone had finally _said_ it, or to revel in Dean's helplessness, before he turned back to Jimmy, who was, quite frankly (and understandably), a little scared of the awkward situation he was currently being forced into. He cast a look to the ceiling, as if asking the Lord for help, (and seriously, after what he'd been through, you'd think the guy had given up the whole prayer thing) and then fixed his eyes back on Dean's.

"Look, just- that's what I know, for sure. Castiel, Angel of the Lord, is in love with Dean Winchester. It's not just me; you two are like- you're meant to be in the most tragically forbidden way." He finished, and the silence set in again.

Dean swallowed, and Sam – noticing his stress and for once not being a _complete_ douche about it – led Jimmy to the other room with the temptation of dessert, leaving him to think this new development over.

How could he not have noticed _something_ through those soul-searing stares that they often shared?

Sometimes Dean became painfully aware of his attraction to the angel and forced himself to physically distance himself from the angel as to fight the urge to confront him about it. You know, _personal space, Cas. _

Of course, in Dean's fantasies those confrontations would often lead to them ripping each others clothes off.

So yeah, Dean had thought about it too; what it would be like to touch Cas, to _really_ touch him, kiss him, spread him out all nice and pretty and slip into his tight heat, feel it all around him. To pound into him slow and dirtily until he was begging Dean to just _take_ him, falling apart beneath him as-

Dean jerked abruptly and cleared his throat, shaking his head as if to rid himself of such thoughts before he got a boner with the vessel of the guy he wanted to shag, and his brother in the next room.

But, as Dean analyzed his albeit inappropriate but definitely _there_ feelings for Castiel, he realized that it went far deeper than just a need for pleasure or physical sensation; he loved Cas. Been blown away by him since the moment he burst into that barn, lights flickering and smashing in his presence. From there it had been a slow descent into a burning passion and need for _Cas_ – not just his body or his Grace, but his awkwardness and his head tilting and his constant and infuriating aversion to answering his questions and his 'misunderstanding' of personal space.

Dean Winchester, macho man, (apparently former) ladies' man and all-around emotionally constipated 'jerk', was in love. With a guy. And not just any guy; an _angel_, named Castiel.

His father would be so proud.

* * *

_"Cas, hold up," Dean called out, needing to talk to Castiel. He turned on his heel slowly, and the look in his eyes made him want to cower behind Sammy and never speak to him again, but he ploughed through._

_"What were you gonna tell me? He asked, and it was as if everything he felt, all his hopes and fantasies were on a tight, fragile rope; a line Castiel could cross or could break into a million, tiny smithereens._

_Cas' gaze flickered for a moment before returning to him and speaking a truth that would ricochet in his mind for ages to come._

_"I learned my lesson while I was away Dean; I serve Heaven, I don't serve man. And I certainly don't serve you." And with that Castiel turned back around and walked away without so much as a glance back at him, leaving Dean to pick up the pieces._


	2. Denial isn't just a river in Egypt

Hey, before you read this next chapter, I just wanted to say thanks for the follows/favourites, however little they may be ;) they really pushed and inspired me to continue this story - i started it in the midst of season 4-5 madness so it gets pretty messy and sad pretty fast, but there's so much more to come, after all, it is Dean and Castiel!

All rights go to the CW and Eric Kripke, I do not own these characters (boy I wish I did though) and Kudos to John Green for inspiring the 'it's gonna hurt because it matters' speech.

_Bobby took a swig of whiskey, or beer, or whatever he was drinking tonight, before speaking. "Where the hell are your angel pals?"_

_"You tell me," Dean replied, still touchy over the subject after what happened in Illinois with Cas. He didn't think he wanted to face Cas after… well, everything._

_Bobby seemed to sense his mood, and he readjusted his baseball cap before offhandedly saying, "Just wondering…" he started, his tone making Dean turn round. _

_"What?" he asked wearily. He was sick of talking about Cas and angels and the apocalypse and his brother, and Bobby knew it, but he stilled pressed on._

_"I was just thinking…what with the apocalypse being nigh and all, isn't it time you sort things out with Cas?" _

So Dean drank, and drank, and soon found himself standing out in the parking lot of Bobby's garage, yelling out to Cas to come down here. Finally, he arrived.

"It's about time. I've been screaming myself hoarse here for about two and a half hours now." He complained, surprised he wasn't slurring. He had felt drunk; clumsy and tingly and buzzed up, ready to face Cas. But the look he wore sobered him up completely, as did his voice.

"What do you want?" He asked, cold and distant. Dean didn't care; they were going to take about this.

"Well, you could start with what the hell happened in Illinois." He accused, ready to catch Cas out.

His face betrayed nothing. But his eyes, his beautifully blue eyes, flashed with recognition. Still, all he said was, "What do you mean?"

"Cut the crap," Dean interjected, tired of the denial. "You were going to tell me something." He asked, hoping once again to get a response from Cas.

And again he was left disappointed. "Nothing of Import."

So Dean tried a different tactic. "You get ass-reamed in heaven, but it was nothing of import?" he pressed, praying (ironic huh?) the true meaning of his words would get through to him. He wasn't spelling it out for Cas; not until he admitted his feelings first. It seemed childish, but Dean wasn't ready to give it up just yet.

They did seem to register, if the broken, defeated look on Cas' face was anything to go by. He looked torn, as if he were being pulled a thousand different directions, and Dean only wanted to pull him towards him and keep him close and safe in his arms.

Cas looked at him; really looked at him, and Dean knew the answer even before the words left his mouth. "Dean…I can't. I'm sorry,"

Long moments passed. Castiel began to walk off, and Dean thought he was leaving before he stopped.

"Get to the reason you really called me: it's about Sam, isn't it?" The spite in his voice almost made Dean flinch, because no, it wasn't that, not at all and they both knew it and they both knew it was Cas who was pulling away, who was denying it.

He could almost feel him close back in on himself. They finished their talk; all business, as usual.

Except that it wasn't; there was this big thing hanging between them that they both now refused to acknowledged, and sooner or later is was going to give and they would both fall down along with it, the only savior being each other if they could swallow their pride and fears and admit it.

It was ages later, after Dean had called Sam and left him a message, after he tried calling him again and failed, that Castiel appeared behind him, ominously saying, "You can't reach him, Dean. You're out of your coverage zone."

At his words, Dean turned, heart stopping in his chest upon meeting Cas' gaze. After their last meeting, he was pissed, but apparently no one had told his heart that. Or his stomach. He swallowed. "What are you gonna do to Sam?" He demanded softly.

Cas strolled past him, still nonchalant as ever. "Nothing; he's going to do it to himself." He replied, staring the green room wall, avoiding Dean's gaze altogether.

It was then that Dean was reminded of who he was – a hunter - and who Cas was; which was an elusive dick. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded again, louder this time, frustrated even further when Castiel didn't answer. "Oh, right, right. Gotta keep up the company lies, right?" When he still didn't reply to Dean's provoking, he changed the subject.

"Why are you here, Cas?" And just saying his name pulled at his heart strings, constricting his chest.

Castiel looked at Dean then, and his eyes told Dean what he wasn't saying. What he did say, however, felt like another punch to the gut. He turned toward Dean and said, "We've been through much together, you and I. I just wanted to say I'm sorry it ended like this."

But his apology, however heartfelt, wasn't enough to heal the damage he'd done. So Dean transferred his hurt the only way he knew how; into something physical. "Sorry?" he mocked.

Then he punched him.

And it hurt like a bitch. He turned and shook the pain away, then faced Cas again, who seemed unaffected by Dean's hit. "It's Armageddon, Cas. You need a bigger word than 'sorry,'" He pointed out, and Cas jumped back on the defensive, all-knowing, holy angel freight train.

"Try to understand; this is long foretold. This is your-" But Dean wasn't having any of it.

"Destiny? Don't give me that holy crap. 'Destiny, God's plan,' – it's just a way for your bosses to keep me, and to keep you in line. You know what's real? People, families; that's real. And you're gonna watch it all burn?" He asked incredulously.

This seemed to light a flame in Cas. He raised his voice, all commanding and empowered (and sexy if Dean was being honest). "What is so worth saving? I see nothing but pain here; I see inside you. I see your guilt, your anger, confusion. In paradise all is forgiven. You'll be in peace. Even with Sam."

Dean was taken aback by Cas' revelation that he could seem inside him. A flurry of panic shot through him when he realised that Cas knew he loved him; he knew where all that confusion and guilt and anger and whatever else was stemming from and he was refusing to acknowledge it, whether for sake of the argument or to stay in denial, Dean didn't know. But that was a matter for later; he had more important matters to deal with right now.

"This is simple, Cas. No more crap about being a good soldier. There is a right and there is a wrong here, and you know it. Look at me!" He yelled when Cas turned away. He grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him easily to face him. "You know it!" He repeated to his face.

And that's when he saw it; the dam of Cas' restraints break, just a little. He was so close to giving in. So Dean stepped closer.

"You were gonna help me once, weren't you? You were gonna tell me something, warn me about all this before they dragged you off to Bible camp." He made sure Cas was still looking at him before he pleaded, "Help me, now." He could see him caving, so he added a heartfelt, "Please."

Cas looked up and then at Dean before sighing, as if he knew what he was about to say could get him into trouble, and he couldn't bring himself to care; not with Dean looking at him like he was the last hope he had left. Which, in reality, he was. Finally, he spoke. "What would you have me do?"

This sprung Dean into action, his eyes lighting up with new-found determination. "Get me to Sam; we can stop this before it's too late." He suggested almost desperately, pleading with Cas to agree.

Cas didn't seem to share his enthusiasm though. "I do that, we will all be killed."

Dean finally came to a decision. He took Cas' hand and placed it on his heart, keeping his hand over it. He took a deep breath.

"You said you saw inside me; my guilt and pain? That's from my love for Sam. Everything hurts for a reason. My confusion? Pain? That's also from love; my love for you, Cas. Yeah, it hurts. It's gonna hurt. But it's gonna hurt because it matters, Cas. If there is anything worth dying for, this is it." He tugged on Cas' hand, willing him with everything he had to believe him, to return the feelings he knew were there, to stand up and so something. Once again Dean found himself on that tightrope, ready to fall or fly.

But, as the silence stretched out further, Dean felt himself falling again. He shoved Cas' hand away, anger consuming the heartache he knew would return for him later.

"You spineless, soulless son of a bitch!" he accused furiously, and Cas wasn't looking at him, and Dean couldn't handle that. He knew how much of a coward he was being; Dean didn't have to tell him, but he was anyway because that's what he deserved. "What do you care about dying?" But dying was only a substitute for the real words being spoken here: _what would you know about love, anyway? _

Dean had been left to fall too many times; it was Cas' turn, he decided. "We're done." He said.

At those harsh, final words, Cas looked up. "Dean-" He started, but Dean wasn't going to catch Cas, not after he'd let him fall.

"We're done."


	3. Turning the Tables

I am SO sorry this took so long i was stuck on what i should do for this part- but i managed and here it is! Enjoy!

* * *

Dean was fuming over Castiel (he refused to call it moping; he _was_ a Winchester, after all), pacing back and forth in a hopeless effort to think of an escape plan. Finally deciding that if he had to stay for a while, he might as well eat something. He picked up a burger and brought it toward his mouth. But, unfortunately for Dean's stomach, the burger was never destined to reach his mouth. As fate would have it, a hand on his shoulder whirled him round and shoved him against the white walls of the green room before he could take a bite out of the delicious burger. He saw blue eyes burning into his, and he relaxed. Slightly.

Cas placed a hand over Dean's mouth and cocked his head to the side, a silent warning in his eyes to remain quiet. But there was something else Castiel's gaze was trying to convey; a message of _I'm sorry, but I'm here now, and I'm willing to fight; for us._

This was more than just Cas realizing Dean was right; apart from the obvious notion that Castiel was risking his life and his Grace to help Dean, Cas knew Dean loved him. This was – at least, what Dean hoped it was – was him showing Dean that _I love you, and yes, I understand now._

So, Dean did the only thing he could –he nodded slowly, acknowledging it. Castiel removed his hand, and Dean tried to ignore the lack of warmth and tingles his touch had brought (Because Dean was _not_ a girl, and this was _not _some chick flick).

Still remaining ever-close to Dean, Cas took out his blade, and, without breaking his stare at Dean, sliced through the skin on his upper forearm, drawing blood to the surface. He dipped his hand in the metallic substance and smothered it across the wall behind Dean, still silent as ever.

Dean's heart thrummed in his chest, as if it was trying to fill the silence; Cas was showing him he could fight, _would_ fight, for him. And if that wasn't just the icing on the cake for him.

A flutter of wings later and Zachariah was there, calling out Cas' name, warning him, threatening him, but his words fell on deaf ears. Instead Castiel slammed his hand down on the symbol he'd drawn and a bright, pure light emerged from Cas' whereabouts. It lit up the room, and Dean shielded his eyes from the light.

When he thought it safe to open them again, Zachariah was gone, and Castiel was still looking at him, and something in those gorgeous eyes made but his lip. He started when Cas' gaze followed the movement. God, he wanted to kiss him. More than anything he wanted to grab the lapels of that damn over-sized trench coat, pull him flush with his body and kiss the daylights out of him. Right now.

From the look in his eyes, Cas was thinking the same.

But just as Dean was gathering up the courage to actually do it, Castiel broke his stare and looked at the table beside them. "He won't be gone for long. We have to find Sam now."

Jumping off the _need to fuck you so bad _track and getting on to the _save the world from an impending apocalypse _track, Dean asked, "Where is he?" Because God knows they didn't tell him.

"I don't know," Castiel replied, still out of breathe and looking a little crazy. He handed Dean his blade before continuing, "But I know who does. We have to stop him Dean. From killing Lilith."

This only served to confuse Dean even further. "But Lilith's gonna break the final seal."

Not even a breath after Dean finished his sentence Cas broke in, "Lilith_ is _the final seal. She dies, the end begins."

* * *

Cas reached out a hand to Dean's forehead, but he blocked it, ducking back before looking at Cas again. "Hang on, where are we going?"

Castiel's impatience was clearly wearing thin. "To Chuck; he'll know where Sam and Ruby are." He tried bringing his hand to Dean again, but Dean grabbed it and forced it to the back of his neck instead. He wasn't leaving just yet.

Not until he did what he'd been dreaming of doing since the moment Castiel had forced the doors of that barn open and stormed toward them, almighty and all-powerful and all-sexy.

Dean grabbed Castiel's tie and yanked it forward, pulling Cas' lips directly onto his in a bruising kiss. He felt stars dance before his closed eyes and Castiel made a noise that was between a groan and a yelp before moving his lips against Dean's, and felt Cas' hand at the back of his neck tighten and slide into his hair. Dean growled as he tugged on it desperately, opening his mouth and allowing Cas' to enter, and Dean almost whimpered when Cas bit down on his lip possessively. Where the hell – or heaven – did he learn to kiss like that, Dean wanted to know. But that was a question for later. Now he let himself have the pleasure of an empty mind that couldn't process a coherent thought if it shot him full of rock salt.

There was no Sam, no apocalypse, no Chuck, no angels. Just them, and their moment.

Their moment that needed to end because unfortunately all things above did exist and needed addressing if they wanted to continue this later. So regrettably, Dean finally pulled away, but not far for he could feel Cas' unsteady breaths against his cheek and knew he was panting just as hard.

Cas didn't seem to be forming many words, so Dean breathed out, "Chuck," and Cas nodded frantically, and swallowed, regaining composure, before zapping them over to Chuck.

* * *

"Saint Mary's?" Dean asked incredulously, "What is that, a convent?"

Chuck, flustered and frightened as usual, said, "Yeah, but, you guys aren't supposed to be there. You're not in this story." He pointed out.

Cas saved Dean the reply, returning Chuck's incredulity by mumbling, "Yeah, well, we're making it up as we go." And even if Cas was looking straight at Chuck, it felt like the words were from him. He looked up at Castiel, but got no response. Just as Dean was starting panic with thoughts of Cas telling him that their little moment in the green room was just that - a moment - the screen on Chuck's computer glitched, and the familiar ear-bursting tone began to sound. The whole house seemed to shake as the light Dean remembered from before returned.

"Oh man, not again!" Chuck yelled, barely able to be heard over the deafening sound. Cas turned to Dean.

"Get to the Archangel!" Dean turned at Cas' order, and knew there was no arguing, but that didn't stop him from trying. Cas cut in before he could open his mouth. "I'll hold them of," he yelled, "I'll hold them all off! Just stop Sam!"

And in the next minute he felt Cas' lips on his in a desperate kiss that made Dean feel very uneasy about Cas' promise that he'd be able to protect himself as well as Chuck, and the next moment he was in the church.

* * *

Castiel stood beside Chuck, awaiting the inevitable and ready to fight it.

"Tell me, what's the motivation here? I mean what made you grow a pair?" Chuck yelled over the noise.

He didn't understand what Chuck was referring to. "A pair of what?" He wondered aloud.

Chuck shook his head in haste. "No, I mean, why are you helping me?" He looked like he already knew the answer, but was fishing for Castiel to answer it.

Of course, his "motivation" as Chuck called it; was Dean. Dean had made him "grow a pair," so to speak. Castiel had found a cause worthy of fighting for; freedom. That included freedom to love Dean.

But he wasn't going to reveal all this to the prophet; he would know when the Lord saw it fit. So instead he replied, "It occurred to me; something Dean always says…"

"Yeah, what's that?" Chuck shouted, eager for the answer.

"What the hell..?" He parroted, hoping he got the phrase correct.

Chuck turned to him again, unable to look at the blinding light any further. He looked at him as if he were seeing him for the first time, and a kind of empathy, or understanding held in the prophet's eyes. He put a hand on Castiel's shoulder, which made him turn. Only Dean touched him. At what must've been his smiting glare, Chuck sheepishly took it off.

Before the conversation could continue, the light grew so bright it was no longer possible to see or hear anything but the noise of a hundred or more wrath-filled angels.


	4. A Lesson In God and Greed

Once again apologies for the lateness; exams to fail, assignments to half-ass, you know? Anyway so this is a plotty one, and i promise i will post a new chapter by tomorrow with more actual destiel scenes of my own making.

* * *

When Dean and Sam arrived at Chuck's home, Dean was expecting Castiel to be there – well, actually, he was more desperately hoping that Castiel had survived, and was planning with Chuck on what their next move was, waiting for Dean to find him.

But all he and Sam found was a wrecked house and a rather terrified Chuck, who swung out at Sam and hit him in the head with a frying pan, taking him by surprise.

Sam staggered back, hand flying to his head where it had been clobbered by with the pan. "Jeez!" he grumbled exasperatedly, accusing puppy eyes focused on Chuck. "Ow!" He complained again, this time louder and more prominent in his reproachfulness.

Chuck's eyes widened comically upon noticing that the man he'd just whacked was Sam; he lowered the frying pan and gasped in surprise. "Sam!"

Sam replied, "Yeah!" his hand still pressed down on the bruise that would surely be forming, pulling bitch face #32, I can't believe you just did that of course it's me do you see any other 6'4 giants hanging around here?

Dean, tired and past the point of social pleasantries, prompted "Chuck?"

Chuck obviously wasn't picking up what Dean was not-so-subtly laying down and continued his girly wonderment of their existence. "So, you guys are okay?" He marvelled incredulously.

Sam was also obviously not on the same wavelength as Dean as he continued his bitchy rampage by biting back, "Well, my head hurts." He would've rolled his eyes if he weren't still so concerned about exactly where the Hell Cas was and what had happened to him.

Chuck shook his head vigorously at Sam's misinterpretation of his question. "No, no, my last vision; you were like, full on Vader. Your body temperature was 150 your heart rate was 200 – Your eyes were black!" he rushed out hastily. That caught Dean's attention, turning his concern and worries from Cas straight to Sam.

"Your eyes went black?" he prodded Sam scrutinisingly from behind him. He turned, his smarminess evaporated, leaving his puppy eyes full of guilt and pain that Dean couldn't handle.

"I didn't know." He answered, a sort of resigned determination that he didn't ever want to see on his little brother's face again flickering over his features.

He decided he didn't want to deal with those issues right now. He needed to know about Cas. Looking at his brother once again before turning to Chuck, he tried to remain stoic as he prompted, "Where's Cas?"

His answer was written on Chuck's remorseful face and Dean braced himself for what was coming.

"He's dead," Chuck relented, voice unstable as ever. "Or gone. The Archangels smoked the crap out of him," he continued, eyes flickering from Sam's face to Dean's, as if unsure who he was supposed to be talking to. Dean had to look away, losing his control for a minute as he felt tears sting in his eyes. Castiel couldn't be dead; not now, not after…

Chuck sighed and swallowed thickly, looking away. "I'm sorry."

He refused to believe it. "You're sure? I mean maybe he just vanished into the light or-"

"Oh, no." Chuck cut in and chuckled without humour, "He like-exploded." He elaborated, walking toward them with wild gesturing hands, "Like a…water balloon of chunky soup," he finished in a pitying yet repulsed manner.

Sam sighed deeply while Dean tried not to let his angst show at the thought of Cas being ripped apart in such a way. Vaguely he heard Sam say to Chuck, "Uh, you've got…"

Then he heard a horrible squelching sound, and Chuck's shudder of disgust as he stated, "Is that a molar – Now I've got a molar in my hair?" He complained. "This has been a really stressful day." Chuck finally concluded, seeming on the brink of a break down that quite frankly Dean wasn't in the mood to console.

"Cas, you stupid bastard," he blasphemed, voice wavering at the lump in his throat. This was his fault. The seal had broken anyway and if he'd stayed, if he'd just kept his mouth shut then Cas would still be there, with him in the green room. It felt as if what he'd fought so damn hard for was just falling apart before his eyes, and this only added to the increasing pile of guilt that weigh heavy on Dean's shoulders.

His harsh words fell on non-understanding ears. Sam turned to him again, a frown on his face. "Stupid? He was trying to help us."

"Yeah exactly." Dean shot back. He should never have dragged Cas into this. He knew remorse would come later; now he was just angry; at himself, at Sam, at the Angels, at the world, everything.

"So what now?"

"I don't know!" Dean bit out, frustrated beyond compare.

The sound of Chuck's voice snapped Dean out of his self-depreciating rage. "Oh, crap."

"What?"

"I can feel them." Chuck replied, terrified and resigned all at once.

* * *

Dean looked away as Zachariah and his angel posse disappeared in a ray of mojo light, only looking back when he was sure they were gone.

"I learned that from my friend Cas you son of a bitch!" he yelled out at the empty room, as if the words could travel somewhere he could not and bring Cas back.

But all that was heard was Chuck, voicing the words they were all thinking; "This sucks ass."

* * *

"And to think, they could've grabbed it any time they wanted." Zachariah douchebag stated, arm sweeping out to shut the doors of the shed, trapping them inside. "It was right in front of them."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked cautiously, swallowing in dread.

"We may have planted that particular piece of prophecy inside Chuck's skull, but it happened to be true. We did lose the Michael sword we truly couldn't find it, until now; you've just hand delivered it to us."

"We don't have anything." Dean pointed out, wondering what the hell they were going on about.

Zachariah rolled his eyes, exasperated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the word.  
"It's you, Chucklehead," Zachariah clarified, moving closer to them, "You're the Michael sword."

Dean blinked. He couldn't have heard that right.

Zachariah smirked at Dean's expression of doubt. "What, you thought you could actually kill Lucifer? You simpering wad of insecurity and self-loathing? No; you're just a human, Dean. And not much of one."

Ignoring his insults, Dean demanded, "What do you mean I'm the sword."

"You're Michael's weapon – or rather his… receptacle."

His words finally registered on Dean. "I'm a vessel?" He said in disbelief.

"You're the vessel. Michael's vessel."

"H-how-why me?"

"Because you're chosen! It's a great honour, Dean."

"Oh yeah; life as an angel condom. That's real fun!" Dean snared, "I think I'll pass, thanks."

Zachariah shook his head in what could almost have been sympathy. "Joking…always joking. Well," he said, lifting his hand in a gun-like form, so it faced Sam before whispering, "Bang."

Not a second later a horrifying crunch sounded from behind Dean and he heard Sam's anguished cry before he fell to the ground.

"You son of a bitch!" He yelled, livid.

"Keep mouthing off and I'll break more than his legs." Zachariah warned, looking down at Sam with no remorse nor mercy. "I am completely and utterly through screwing around. The war has begun, we don't have our general; that's bad. Now Michael is going to take his vessel and lead the final charge against the adversary. You understand me?"

"How many humans die in the cross fire huh? A million? Five, ten?"

"Probably more; if Lucifer goes on check you know how many die? All of them. He'll roast the planet alive."

Something didn't add up. "There's a reason you're telling me this, instead of just nabbing me. You need my consent. Michael needs my say-so to ride around in my skin."

By the look on Zachariah's face he'd hit the jackpot. "Unfortunately yes," he confirmed.

"There's gotta be another way." Dean reasoned.

"There is no other way. There must be a battle. Michael must defeat the serpent. It is written-"

"Yeah, maybe. But on the other hand…" Dean looked up at the angel. "Eat me."

"The answer's no."

* * *

Even as Zachariah threatened him and tortured him, Dean refused to give his consent. He would not see half the planet die because of him. He didn't need any more blood on his hands.

But even he was losing his resolve as Sam struggled for air, and a hand roughly grabbed his jaw, jerking it up to look at Zachariah.

"You're going to say yes, Dean."

"Just kill us."

"Kill you?" Zachariah mocked, moving away from Dean. Sam wasn't moving. "Oh no. I'm just getting started."

But then a brilliant flash of light made Zachariah halt his threats and turn around. He heard the familiar sound of a knife through skin and hope flashed through his veins, hot and powerful.

When he looked up, he saw Cas; fighting his way through angels fearlessly and determined. Dean could barely process what was happening as Cas eliminated all other angels in the shed, before turning to Zachariah.

"How are you…?"

"Alive?" Castiel answered, voice as gruff and low as ever, like whiskey and tequila. "It's a good question; how did these two end up on that airplane? Another good question, as the angels didn't do it. I think we both know the answer don't we?"

"No… That's not possible,"

"Scares you – well, it should. Now put these boys back together, and go. I won't ask twice." Castiel commanded, and Dean was very familiar with wrong place wrong time situations, but damn if that didn't make his cock twitch, hearing Castiel give out demands like nobody's business.

Zachariah took a breath, and left without another word. Dean felt instantly normal again, and breathed out a sigh of relief when Sammy got up okay too.

"You two need to be more careful," Cas reprimanded, giving Dean a look that said, We'll talk later.

"Yeah," Dean replied, tilting his head toward Cas in affirmation before continuing, "starting to get that."

* * *

"If he exists, then he's dead, which is the generous option-"

"He is out there, dean-"

"Or, he's alive and kicking, and doesn't give a rat's ass about any of us," the angered expression of Dean's face only spurred him on. "I mean look around you man, the world is in the toilet. We are literally at the end of days and he's kicking back drinking booze from a coconut-"

Cas turned to him. "Enough! I killed two angels this week. My brothers. I'm hunted. I rebelled and I did it - all of it - for you." He stepped closer, close enough that Dean could count his lashes. "And you failed. You and your brother destroyed the world. And I lost everything - for nothing. So keep your opinions to yourself."

* * *

Dean hadn't spoken to Castiel alone for a while after that, both too mad and too stubborn to really talk to one another, and after his departure from Sam, Dean never felt so lonely in his life.

So it was only fitting that, after a long night of salt-and-burn hunting as he was cleaning up his jacket in the sink of his hotel bathroom, that Cas would make an appearance.

"Hello, Dean."


	5. Knowing Why

Hi just needed to get this chapter out of the way before I got to the good stuff :P

* * *

_"Hello, Dean."_

* * *

Dean turned from the mirror to face Cas, anger, hurt and something that felt like hope warring within in. He was a breath's away from his lips, and all he could think about was the kiss they'd shared those few weeks ago in the Green room. He needed to focus on something other than the proximity in which they were standing to each other.

"Cas," he choked out, momentarily put-off by the head scent of Cas that flooded through his senses. He cleared his throat, "We've talked about his; personal space." He prompted, a little harshly, for Cas' eyes flickered with hut before replying, "My apologies," and stepping away, allowing Dean to think.

Subsequently, a thought struck him. "How's you find me – I thought I was flying below the angel radar." He asked, moving into the main area of the hotel room and awaiting for Cas to follow.

"You are," Castiel said, absentmindedly letting his eyes roam the apartment before landing back on Dean, blue eyes piercing through him. "Bobby told me where you were."

Dean snorted at the mental image of Castiel showing up unannounced and demanding Bobby to tell him where he was.

"Where's Sam?" Cas asked casually, but not. Dean forced himself to remember that he was asking because it was important for him to know where both he and Sam were – not because he wanted to know how long they'd have together before he showed up.

The mention of Sam, though, darkened his thoughts. "Me and Sam are taking separate vacation fo a while." He shrugged o his jacket and turned to Cas. "So; did you find God yet?" He asked, tone still a little snarky to be calm.

"No, I haven't found him. That's why I'm here; I need your help."

"With what?" Of course; Castiel wouldn't have come to him unless he needed his help. "God hunt? Not interested."

"It's not God; it's someone else."

Dean looked up at that. "Who."

"An archangel; the one who killed me."

The words made Dean's stomach drop. "Excuse me?"

"His name's Raphael."

"You were wasted by a Teenage Mutant Ninja Angel?" Dean cracked, attempting to make light of the situation.

But his attempts fell unnoticed by Cas. "I heard whispers; he's walking the Earth. This is a rare opportunity."

Dean didn't like the thought of Cas up against an Archangel, let alone the one who killed him before. "For what, revenge?

"Information." Castiel corrected.

"So what," Dean mused, walking past Castiel to the nightstand, "You think if you find this dude he's just gonna spill God's address?"

"Yes," he answered, "Because we are going to trap him and interrogate him."

Okay, Dean definitely didn't like the sound of that.

"You're serious about this."

Castiel turned back to him, determination written in his features, his stance. It was all the answer he needed. Finally, he said, "Give me one good reason why I should do this."

"You know why." He answered, and his voice held something, a deep resonance of emotion that Dean had only imagined in his head on those lonely nights with only a bottle of whiskey for company and comfort. "I need, your help, because you are the only one who'll help me." And coming from Cas that was practically an, _I need you, _and damn it if the sincerity and hope in his eyes didn't break Dean's heart a little. "Please."

He found himself giving in another time. "Alright, fine."

* * *

Dean had been waiting in that abandoned house for almost two hours before Castiel decided to show up, holding a creepy looking jug in his right hand.

"Where've you been?" Dean wanted to know. His answer was not one that he expected from the angel.

"Jerusalem." Cas said, as if that cleared everything up instead of making Dean even more baffled than before.

"Oh, how was it?" He retorted.

"Arid." He replied, and the dryness of his tone would make Dean think he was being sarcastic if it were anyone else. He made his way to the table before Dean and placed the previously-mentioned creepy jug on it.

"What is that?" He asked, face screwed up in distaste.

"It's oil. It's very special, very rare." Castiel answered, eyes flickering to Dean.

He cleared his throat pointedly. "So, this ritual of yours, when's it gotta go down?"

"Sunrise."

"Tell me something; you keep saying we're gonna trap this guy, but isn't that kinda like trapping a hurricane in a butterfly net?"

"No, it's harder," Castiel retorted, sitting down on the chair adjacent to the table.

"Do we have any chance of surviving this?"

"You do." He said, too matter-of-fact for Dean's liking.

"So, odds are you're a dead man tomorrow."

"Yes." He supplied.

"Wow," Dean commented, moving back over to where Castiel had appeared from. He refused to believe him, but continued anyway, prompting, "Well, last night of Earth; what are your plans?"

"I just thought I'd sit here quietly." Cas said, looking out the window of the house.

"Dude, come on, anything? Booze? Women?"

At the mention of sex, Castiel glanced up at Dean, an embarrassed innocence that made Dean's heat stutter spreading across his features before he looked away. It piqued Dean's curiosity.

"You have been with a woman before, right? Or an angel at least?" He questioned, keeping the angel option non-gender specific.

Cas still wouldn't look at him, and the thought that Castiel, Angel of the Lord, was still a virgin made his dick jump in interest. Had Cas even been kissed before that night in the Green room, he wondered. "You mean to tell me you've never been up there doing a little cloud seeding?"

"Look, I've never had occasion, alright?" Cas snapped defensively, almost making Dean grin with the knowledge that he'd 'ruffled his feathers,' so to speak.

Dean almost couldn't stand the thought of Cas, naked and wanting for something, but not having a clue what. A completely untouched, innocent angel coming apart under his hands. He suddenly wondered if that oil could be used for other things than trapping an angel.

* * *

As it turned out, they both survived the confrontation of Raphael, but something he'd said to them had shaken something within Castiel, on the edge of breaking.

_Did it ever occur to you that maybe… Lucifer, raised you? _

_No!_

It hadn't occurred to the angel, but now it was obviously troubling him deeply. Dean decided he needed to fix that. He looked over at Cas, who was currently occupying shotgun in the Impala, and mustered up a feeble, "You okay?"

Cas didn't answer, just stared out onto the road in front of them. "Look, I'll be the first to tell you this little crusade of yours is nuts, but… I do know a little something about missing fathers."

"What do you mean?" Cas spoke, still not taking his eyes off of the road.

"I mean there were times when I was looking for my Dad when…all logic said that he was dead." He looked to Cas to see if he'd gotten a reaction, before turning back to the road. "But I knew, in my heart, that we was still alive." And Jesus if that sounded any more girly they really would be in a chick flick. But Cas needed to hear it, so he ploughed through his initial embarrassment. "Who cares what some Ninja Turtle angel says, Cas, what do _you_ believe?" he prodded, looking back to Castiel again.

"I believe he's out there."

"Good, then go find him." Finally, finally, Cas looked to him.

"What about you?" He asked him.

"What about me? I don't know. I mean, I'm good. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm good." And he knew it was because of Cas that he felt that way.

"Even without your brother?" Cas asked, confused, but his tone indicated he understood what he was feeling.

"Especially without my brother," He answered, which made Castiel frown. "I mean I spent so much time worrying about the son of a bitch… I've had more fun with you in the past 24 hours than I've had with Sam in years." And yeah, maybe that was because it was Cas, and he loved him in way he never could with his brother, or anyone else, but... "It's funny I've been so chained to my family; but now that I'm alone…Hell I'm happy." But apparently he'd forgotten what really being alone felt like, because when he looked again and Cas was no longer at his side, happy was far from what he was feeling.


	6. The End and The Beginning

Ola, people! okay so this one is a long one, lots of Destiel goodies in there for you, in condolences for the (SPOILERS) traumatic events of the season 9 mid-season finale. :(

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

"We're talking about the Colt, right?" Dean asked, closing the hotel room curtains in perfectly reasonable paranoia. "As in, _the _Colt?" He clarified.

"Yes."

"Well that doesn't make any sense why would the demons keep a gun around that, well, kills demons?"

"What? De-" Cas yelled from the other line. "I didn't- I didn't get that" he explained apologetically.

Dean chuckled. Cas and him had begun an un-established routine of calling each other over the phone and discussing leads on the whole killing Lucifer thing. Sometimes though, they would get on to subjects such as if Cas had ever eaten pie, which Dean had been appalled to find out he hadn't, and other, unusually normal things. The almost domesticity of the whole situation was a new experience for Dean, having only experienced any type of familiarity with Sam, and he was his brother. It left Dean feeling lighter when he settled down for sleep at night.  
"You know, it's funny; talking to an angel on a cell phone. It's kinda like watching a Hell's angel ride a moped." Dean joked. It wasn't the first time he'd commented on it, and he could tell Cas was getting impatient with his humour.

"This isn't funny Dean; the voice said I'm almost out of minutes." He complained, and Dean had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing.

"Okay, alright." He relented, before tracking back to their original conversation. '"Look, I'm telling you the mooks have melted down the gun by now." He told him.

"Well, I hear differently. And if it's true, and you are still set on the insane task," He could almost hear Cas' eye roll, "of killing the Devil, his is how we do it." He advised.

"Okay," Dean acquiesced. There was really no point in arguing with an angel of the Lord, he'd found. Beings of celestial intent were pretty damn stubborn when they wanted to be. "So, where do we start?"

"Where are you now?"

"Kansas City..." Dean reached over his bed to grab his hotel keys, "Century Hotel, room 113.

"I'll be there immediately."

And while Dean loved the sound of that… "Whoa, whoa, no; come on man I just drove like 16 hours straight, okay? I'm human – There's stuff I gotta do?"

"What stuff?" Cas asked suspiciously. The angel seriously had no idea.

"Eat for example, in this case sleep." He felt bad for leaving Cas hanging, so he added, "Look, I just need like four hours once in a while, okay?"

"Yes," Cas sighed, defeated.

"Okay so you can pop in tomorrow morning?" God he hated that he sounded so rude, but he was exhausted, and having Cas with him in the hotel room was just too much for him to handle tonight.

"Yes, I'll just –" Dean didn't hear the rest, hanging up before the sound of his voice drove him crazy. He needed sleep like two gas stations ago.

* * *

_"We're not stronger when we're together, Sam." Dean implored, and it broke his heart, but it was the only way to keep them both safe. "I think we're weaker. Because whatever we have between us – love, family, whatever it is – they are always, gonna use it against us. And you know that. We're better off apart." He reaffirmed, as much to himself as to his little brother. "We have a better chance of dodging Lucifer and Michael," he went on, trying to keep his voice logical, stoic, but finding it waver with emotion. "And this whole damned thing…if we just go our own ways." _

_"Dean, don't do this." He protested, but Dean wasn't prepared for a debate._

_"Bye, Sam." He mumbled abruptly before snapping his phone closed and closing his eyes. Damn it he was tired of this. _

* * *

When Dean awoke much later, the first thing he noticed was that his back hurt. The next thing he noticed was that his back hurt because he'd been sleeping on a rusted bed all night. Wait a minute; that wasn't right. Sleepiness evaded him and he was suddenly wide awake with the realisation that he was not in the motel room. Or if he was, he was not in the motel room in 2009. A layer of dust covered everything; the alarm clock broken, the wall paper peeled off and the window shattered.

He sprang up from the bed and headed towards it, peering out to see not a town or city – but a wrecked, burned up dump.

What the hell had happened to him last night?

He made his way outside the hotel and out onto the streets, irrational despair shocking through him when he realised his baby wasn't there, because that was _so _not on the list of important things right now.

He aimlessly wondered the street down where his hotel was. Everything was either burned, busted or ransacked; nothing like the town he'd driven into the night before.

His confusion led him down a wide alley, where he spotted a little girl, crouching on the ground and appearing as if she were crying. "Little girl?" He prompted, but she did not raise her head in recognition.

"Little girl?" He repeated, slowly walking toward her, as if approaching a wounded animal. "Are you hurt?" He questioned, attempting to get a response from her. "You know the 'not talking' thing is kinda creepy…" he trailed off as he saw a ball of thick, sticky blood drop from her mouth. He crouched down, only to have her head snap toward him.

She screamed, picked up her knife and swung at Dean, blade slicing at his side before he jumped away, manoeuvring back from the knife. He swung at her and knocked her in the head, sending her falling to the ground.

His mind raced, blood roaring in his ears. He couldn't even begin to comprehend- except…

He looked around. There. On the wall adjacent to the alley, written in what he hoped wasn't blood, was the answer.

Croatoan virus. "Oh, crap." Was that why everything was destroyed? Had a case gotten out on Dean's watch?

Before he could figure anything else, a large group of people turned the corner, and Dean couldn't tell if it was the cliché zombie way they walked or the hungry look in their eyes but he guessed they weren't on his side.

He turned and ran, Croatoans hot on his tail. He hadn't run for his life at such a long distance for a while, and in retrospect maybe his car being missing _was _on the list of important things to worry about. His opinion was reinforced when suddenly he was faced with a large rusty gate blocking his way. He stopped and turned to the Croatoans, preparing himself for a fight when a large car roared past and rapidly fired at the zombies. He got down, figuring they might mistake him for a Croatoan, and stayed until the car drove off.

So there were still some humans left after all.

* * *

He eventually found what looked like a safe, fenced off area, for now. Dean managed to break open a small area where he could climb through, the rusted fence catching on his clothes and the dirt scraping his hands as he hauled himself up through it. When he was up, he spotted a sign on the gates that read:

NO ENTRY

BY ORDER OF ACTING REGIONAL COMMAND

AUGUST 1ST, 2014

2014. He was five years into the future. This could only be the work of an angel; most likely Zachariah. "Son of a bitch." He swore, before looking toward a jacked up but working car. He managed to hijack the vehicle and get it started before pulling out of the area, looking for any sign of where those people had driven off to.

He tried his cell, but when he held it to his ear all that could be heard was a faint crackling sound. Great. He couldn't even call Cas or Sam to tell them where he was or ask what the hell had happened. "That's never a good sign." He grumbled.

At the thought of the two boys he cared for in completely different ways, Dean's attempt at calm faltered as panic swept through him, if only for a moment. If he was in the future; where were they? Were they even alive?

"Croatoan pandemic," A voice said out of nowhere, scaring the lights out of Dean. Zachariah. "Reaching Australia," He concluded.

"I thought I smelled your stink on this back to the future crap." Dean declared, shooting a glare at the angel sitting beside him.

"President Palin defends bombing of Houston," Zachariah continued, eyes never leaving the damned newspaper. "Certainly a biased market in real estate. Let's see what's happening in sports," he jested, flipping the page comically. "That's right; no more sports. Congressmen revoked the right tot group assembly…" He went on, but Dean wasn't listening, didn't care.

"How did you find me?" He wondered.

"I'm afraid we had to tap some unorthodox resources of late. Human informants. We've been making inspirational visits to the fringier Christian groups. They've been given your image, told to keep an eye out."

"Great you have had your jollies know send me back you son of a bitch." Dean snapped, running out of patience with the douche bag angel to his right.

"Oh you'll get back; all in good time. We want you to marinade a bit."

"Marinade?" Dean repeated incredulously.

Zachariah dropped the act. "Three days, Dean." He warned. "Three days to see where this course of action takes you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you're choices have consequences." He relented, snapping the paper for emphasis. "This is what happens to the world if you say no to Michael. Have a little look-see." He suggested before disappearing from the car.

Dean slapped his hand down on the steering wheel in frustration. He couldn't have four hours off without being dragged five years into the future by some douche bag who thought he owned his ass, could he?

* * *

Bobby's house was wrecked. The inside was dusty like everything else in this damn place, like it hadn't been disturbed in years. Paintings crooked and windows cracked. The main area revealed Bobby's wheelchair, overturned, with several bullet holes through the back.

"Oh, no." Dean whispered, a dull sort of dread seeping in his bones. Surely Bobby hadn't…? He turned the chair upright and noted the long since dried blood. "Where is everybody, Bobby?" He asked to the empty space.

Figuring that his place might hold some clues as to what had happened to Cas or Sam, Dean rummaged through his desk drawers and bookshelves until he remembered the box in the fireplace. He pulled out the hidden drawer, coughing at the dust that swept up from the mantel piece, and pulled out his Dad's journal. Surely this would tell him what he wanted to know. Frantically flipping through the pages he'd already seen, Dean searched for something new. He found it in the form of a photograph, displaying some hunters Dean did and did not recognise, Bobby in his wheelchair, and…

An unshaven, tired, incredibly _human _Cas, holding a gun, and wearing something that almost resembled normal clothes. A surge of relief, hope and concern swept through him. Cas was alive, but at what price?

"Chitaqua." Dean breathed, reading the sign they were standing by. That's where they must be.

* * *

Camp Chitaqua was heavily guarded, with fencing all around the area. Through the fence though, Dean spotted his baby, wrecked and torn and unused.

"Oh, baby, no," He mumbled. Finding his way in. He ran to it, physically sick at the sight, then crouched down to get a better look at her.

"Oh, no, Baby; what have they done to you?" He murmured, stroking her leather seating. Suddenly he recollected the feeling of white-hot pain, before everything went black.

* * *

When he awoke this time, his back was protesting again, something jabbing at his spine. But when he tried to move, he felt resistance against his hands. Blearily opening his eyes, he vaguely noted handcuffs.

Oh. Flashes of memories drifted over him, the last thing he remembered he was standing over his baby's corpse, and then…

"What the hell?" He drawled, but before he could get his bearings another voice answered.

"I should be asking that question don't you think?" And holy crap it was himself. Except not. This Dean was older, fiercer. He was seated in a chair before a dining table, gun rested on his lap, ready to shoot. "In fact why don't you give me one good reason why I shouldn't gank you right here and now?"

"Because you'd… only be hurting yourself?" Dean joked, cracking a smile. His older self didn't share his amusement.

"Very funny," he snared, but relaxed a little, lifting his gun so it was no longer pointed at his face.

"Look man, I'm no shape shifter, or demon or anything," He started.

"Yeah I know; I did the drill while you were out. Silver, salt, holy water, nothing. But do you know what was funny? That you had every hidden lock pick, box cutter and switchblade that I carry. You wanna explain that? Oh, and the uh," he gestured between them. "…resemblance while you're at it." He demanded.

"Zachariah," Was all he replied, knowing it would spark an interest in himself. Wow that was something he never thought he'd be thinking.

2014 Dean stood up, eyes flashing with something Dean didn't like on his face. "Come again?" He urged, tilting his head.

"I'm you, from the tail end of 2009. Zach plucked me from my bed and threw me five years into the future." He elaborated.

"Where is he; I wanna talk to him."

"I don't know." He replied, not understanding why he would want to see Zachariah willingly, ever.

His answer apparently didn't sit too well with his future self. "Oh, you don't know?" He barked, and Dean fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"No, I don't, alright – I just want to get back to my own friggin' year okay?" He retorted. God he was a pain in the ass. He made a mental note to tell Sam that he was a saint for putting up with him all those years.

2014 Dean turned this information over in his head, before crouching before Dean. "If you're me, then tell me something only I would know."

He was slightly surprised at the question. Something only he would know. Dean told the first story that popped into his head. "Do you remember when we got really drunk in that bar past Mississippi? Sam was off somewhere, probably with Ruby, and we were at the hotel alone, and we found out that the alcohol didn't stop the nightmares and we couldn't sleep.

"So we, in our stupid drunk minds, called Cas to get his ass down here because we were in danger, and we thought he was going to smite us on the spot when he saw that we were fine," both Dean's chuckled at the memory. "But he just stood there, watching us and doing that stupid little head tilt like he was trying to pick us apart to the very core before sitting on the bed next to us and letting us talk about nothing and everything and swapping stories about God knows what because we were so drunk we couldn't remember the details the next day, but what we did remember was sleeping well for the first time since we got back from the Pit, and the tune of '_Hey Jude,' _was playing in our heads all morning." Dean looked up at his future self.

"In retrospect, we know that was the moment we fell in love with Cas."

For some reason, 2014 Dean was unnerved by the mention of being in love with Cas, which confused Dean. If he'd already accepted it now, surely this Dean was already used to the idea of being in love with a guy, because come on it's Cas.

But 2014 Dean didn't want to talk about Cas. He turned away and resumed playing with his gun. "So what, Zachariah sent you up here to see how bad it gets?"

"Croatoan virus, right? That's their end game?"

He nodded. "It's efficient, it's incurable, and it's scary as hell. Turns people into monsters. Started hitting the main cities about two years ago, world really went to the crapper around about then."

"What about Sam?" He asked, hesitant and nervous as to the answer.

He felt his hope failing at the look on his face. "Heavy-weight showdown in Detroit. From what I understand, Sam didn't make it." He replied, voice unwavering, unforgiving.

"You weren't with him?" How could- how could he have not been there to protect him? Just what the hell had happened?

"No; me and Sam haven't talked in…Hell, five years." It hit Dean then, that what had happened was the phone call he'd had with Sam last night, where he told him they shouldn't see each other.

"We never tried to find him?" Dean asked, because he had to have at least had a shred of loyalty left in him, right?

"We had other people to worry about." He answered, picking up his duffel bag.

Rather than asking who 'other people' were, he called out, "Whoa, where are you going?" Because he was heading out the front door.

"I have an errand to run."

"You're just gonna leave me here?" He didn't like the thought of being chained up, defenceless in a place he wasn't familiar with.

"Yes. I got a handful of twitchy traumatized survivors hanging around here with an apocalypse hanging over their head. The last thing they need to see is a version of the parent trap. So yeah, you stay locked down." He turned to leave again.

"Alright, fine; but you don't have to cuff me man." No answer. "Oh, come on; you don't trust yourself?" He cracked.

He shook his head. "No. Absolutely not."

When the door slammed shut, Dean swore, "Dick."

* * *

After his encounter with Chuck, Dean went to find Cas, trying to contain his emotions. Everything he could be feeling he was experiencing; hope, excitement, dread, relief, panic, anxiousness, and about 50 more different emotions swirled inside him until he almost couldn't stand it.

Whatever he was feeling though, didn't prepare him for what lay behind the door. Castiel, in all his ragged glory, was seated in a circle with about seven girls around him.

When Cas saw him he faltered a little, before turning to the women. "Uh, you'll have to excuse me ladies I need to confer with our fearless leader. Why don't you all get washed up for the orgy?"

The _what? _

The girls left the cabin, leaving the two alone. "What are you, a hippy?" He remarked, trying to keep his tone light.

"Thought you'd gotten over trying to label me." He retorted, and his voice – the gravelly tone was still there, but it was different. It was dripping with a kind of emotion that his Cas didn't contain.

"Cas, we gotta talk –" He started, but Cas turned round, eyes wide.

"Whoa, strange…" He commented, eyes surveying up and down his body. He suppressed a shiver.

"What?"

"You…are not you; not now you anyway."

"No- yes, yes exactly!" Of course Cas would know – Cas always knows.

"What year are you from?" He enquired, facial expression open and questioning and so damn normal but completely not normal and Dean didn't know how to deal with it.

"2009." He answered, curiosity piquing at the almost wistful look that flittered across Cas' face.

"Who did this to you? Was it Zachariah?"

"Yes"

"Interesting." He remarked, and Dean almost rolled his eyes, because of course if Cas kept one trait from 2009 it was his inability to stay on topic and fascination with the trivial things. He was losing his patience fast, as always.

"Yeah it's friggin' fascinating. Now – why don't you strap on your angel wings and fly me back to my page on the calendar?"

At this Cas began laughing; it was the first time he'd ever heard Cas laugh, but it was not a laugh he wanted to hear from Cas again. It was humourless and helpless and all things a laugh should not be.

"You know, I wish could just- strap on my wings, but I'm sorry, no dice."

"What are you, stoned?"

"Generally, yeah." And there was something in Cas' eyes then; something harsh and unforgiving. Something that reminded Dean of the look 2014 Dean had worn when he mentioned the moment he'd fallen in love with Cas.

"What happened to you?" He asked, unable to mask the almost horror-like tone that slipped into his voice.

"Life."

It suddenly hit Dean the impact that all this had had on Cas. The man was doing drugs, and staging an orgy and probably drinking and it was because of… well, what exactly?

* * *

_"Not gonna lie; me and him – we got a pretty messed up situation going on." _

* * *

"It's just been a really whacky weekend." Dean sighed, exhausted and strung out like a wire.

"Tell me about it." His clone agreed, taking a swig of whiskey.

Dean decided this was the time to ask. "Hey, can I ask you something? About Cas?"

At the mention of Castiel, Dean tensed. "What about him."

"What happened to him? Or to us for that matter"

"I don't know what you mean." He replied, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Oh come on, you know exactly what I mean; we loved him – we still do. And he's human, or fallen or whatever, and he's drugged up and alcoholic and having orgies – where were we in all of this, huh?" He accused, slamming down his cup.

"Where were we? I'll tell you where we were. We were right there! Why don't you ask him where he was?" He yelled before storming out. "This time don't follow!"

* * *

_"And you know this how?" Risa asked._

_"Oh, our fearless leader is all too well schooled in the art of getting to the truth."_

_"Torture? Oh, so we're torturing again – that's-that's great. Classy."_

_Cas chuckled. 2014 Dean shot him a glare. "What?" He replied easily, "I like past you."_

_"This is where he is."_

_"Oh great, its right in the middle of a hot zone."_

_"Are you saying my plan is reckless?"_

_"Are you saying we, uh, walk in straight up the drive way past all the demons and the croates and we shoot the devil?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Okay, well if you don't like reckless I could use insouciant maybe." _

_"Are you coming or not?"_

_"Of course. But he's you from the past so if something happens to you, you're gone, right?" _

_"He's coming."_

_"Okay!"_

* * *

_"Sam didn't die in Detroit. He said yes."_

_"Yes? – wait. You mean-"_

_"Yeah, that's right. The big yes to the Devil. Lucifer's wearing him to the Prom."_

_"Why would he do that?"_

_"Wish I knew. But now we don't have a choice; it's in him and it's not getting out. We've gotta kill him, Dean. And you need to see it. The whole damn thing. So you can do it different."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"When you get back home, say yes."_

* * *

The cars all rolled off, he and Cas sharing a vehicle. As they were driving along the dirt roads, Cas took out an orange case and popped a few pills into his mouth. When he'd closed the bottle, he gestured towards him.

"Let me see those." He requested, and Cas looked to him, surprise and caution written on his features.

"Want some?" He asked, handing them over. Dean inspected the bottle, holding them a little away, and looking at them accusingly, as if they were to blame for the mess Cas was in.

"Amphetamines?" He inquired, casting a look to Cas disapprovingly. How badly had Cas been screwed over exactly? How many times?

"It's the perfect antidote to that absent feeling." He quipped, like a knife to his chest.

Dean sighed, anxiety pulling at every nerve in his body. "Don't get me wrong Cas; I'm glad you got that stick out of your ass but come on, what's going on – what's with the drugs and the orgies and the love guru crap?" He questioned, but Cas just laughed that empty, terrible laugh that he knew had the potential to overtake his nightmares of Hell.

"What's so funny?"

"Dean, I'm not an angel anymore." He revealed, looking to him with his dull blue eyes that used to be so full of- well, love. But now they held betrayal and loss and disappointment.

"How?" He uttered.

"I think it had something to do with the other angels leaving, but uh, they bailed. My mojo just kinda drained away. Now, I'm practically human. I mean, I'm all but useless. Last year, broke my foot, laid out for two months." The reserved, resigned tone that unnerved Dean to no end.

"So, you're human? Well… welcome to the club." He said, trying to manage a feeble attempt to console him.

"Thanks. Except I used to belong to a much better club. Now I'm useless. I'm hapless, hopeless; I mean why the hell not bury myself in women and decadence? Right? It's the end baby! Why not bang a few gongs before the lights go out? But then, that's just how I roll."

The car fell silent. Dean had nothing to say to that, and Cas apparently wasn't interested in further conversation. But then his older self's words came back to him.

_Why don't you ask him where he was? _

"Cas...I gotta ask – I mean, with you being like this now and me, well, I've just come from 2009, where we-" He cut himself off, trying to find the best way to word the question.

"Do you mean what happened with me and Dean? Or rather, me and you. Right? Because in your time, I'm still an innocent little angel, and it's only been a few weeks since we had that 'soul-searing' kiss and you're still tip-toeing around me and you will continue to do so until everything goes to Hell and you stop flittering about and call it quits on something that never began because you didn't have the balls to ask me to stay." Cas narrated gruffly, looking pointedly away from Dean.

"Hang on a second. This is a two-way street douche bag. You say I did nothing? What about you, you had every chance to do the same yet you didn't!" He returned, just as angrily passive as Castiel.

Cas looked like he was expecting it. Still when he looked at Dean, eyes flaring with emotion. "Ah, yes. You say that every time we have this argument. But you know what - I think this time I'll get through to you on this. I think I mentioned innocent little angel, did I not? I had no idea what you meant when you said that you loved me. I'm – I _was_ – an angel, the love I knew was of all creatures; expressing love was normal. You never- I never knew what it meant. My feelings for you- they were different but I didn't know what that meant, Dean. I didn't know what I was supposed to do with that kiss, if it meant you wanted more or if it was spur of the moment-" He broke off to chuckle humourlessly again. "Look at me, getting all riled up over a five year-long argument that you're only hearing for the first time. Maybe I'll get it right this time." He wasn't looking at Dean anymore, but the weight of his words still remained the same.

"Get it right?"

Cas turned to him once again. "We screwed it up; me and – my Dean. Whosever fault it was or is isn't the issue any longer. What you need to know is that I-I loved you. Maybe I still do, I don't know- wouldn't know, I guess. But _he_ does- the one in your time? He thinks the world of you, Dean. Don't ruin him, not like my Dean has ruined me. Be honest with him." He begged. The car came to a stop. They'd arrived at their destination; it was go time.

Dean started to get out of the car; but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Cas pulled Dean toward him, and kissed him, just for one, raw and beautiful moment, before pulling away. Dean was shocked into stillness, but Cas climbed out of the car.

Only to return a second later. "Oh, and Dean?"

Dean looked to him. "Yeah?" He asked, taking in the serious tone.

Cas looked as if he was contemplating saying it to him. Finally, he swallowed. "When you get back, to your time – Ask me to stay."

"What?"

Cas seemed to regain his bravado, looking to him again. "When the time comes – and you'll know the time – ask me to stay."

* * *

_"It's a trap. We can't go through the front."_

_"We're not; they are. They're the decoys – you and me we go through the back."_

_"You mean you're going to feed your friends through the meat grinder? Cas too?" He accused, hardly daring to believe it. This wasn't him. This couldn't be him. "You would use their deaths as a diversion. Oh man, something is broken in you. You're making decisions I would never make; I would never sacrifice my friends."_

* * *

_"Whatever you do, you will always end up here. Whatever choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up… here. I win, so I win." _

_"You're wrong."_

_"See you in five years, Dean."_

* * *

_"Oh I learned a lesson; just not the one you wanted to teach." _

* * *

"Pretty nice timing Cas." He breathed out, relief flooding through his bones, through his soul, at Cas- his Cas, reinforced by his words.

"We had an appointment." He stated, as if confused as to why he wouldn't have shown up. 2014 Castiel's words came back to him, as if he were whispering into his ear.

_I'm useless. I'm hapless, hopeless; I mean why the hell not bury myself in women and decadence? Right? It's the end baby! Why not bang a few gongs before the lights go out? But then, that's just how I roll._

He couldn't let that happen to his Cas. He wouldn't. And the way he was looking at him right now, on the side of the railway, he needed. Needed like he hadn't ever before to bury himself in Cas, in his Grace and the knowledge that he couldn't become the Cas he'd encountered in the future. No, it couldn't happen because Dean was there, and he wasn't going to let Cas go.

"Cas," He whispered. "Cas, I-" He cut himself off and crushed his lips to Castiel's. He heard Cas make a pleased sound in the back of his throat and kissed him back. Dean had held onto the memory of their kiss desperately from last time, but it was still nothing compared to the reality. He pulled Cas closer, so their bodies were inseparably close, and continued to kiss him, desperate and needing in the same way Cas was, grabbing at his clothes and making gorgeous sounds of pleasure that drove Dean crazy.

Next thing he knew he was in a hotel room, and Cas was standing between Dean and the wall. His hands came up to his neck and tilted it back to dominate the kiss. Cas groaned, still grabbing at Dean's jacket, pulling him even closer as he opened his mouth, letting Dean's tongue slide into his mouth. He let out a moan when Cas' tongue tangled with his (seriously where did he learn to kiss that good?), and Dean's hand slid up into his hair, tugging on the strands. He ground his hips rough into Cas', causing Cas to break their kiss and groan, arching his back and throwing his head back against the wall, giving Dean perfect access to his neck. He dove in, nipping and sucking on the sensitive points of his jugular and earlobe, eliciting beautiful moans from his lover.

When Dean's tongue slid over his collarbone. He heard Cas' breath hitch. Dean grinned wickedly, a devilish idea forming. He slid his hands down Cas' body and up under his work shirt, stroking his nipples. Another sharp intake of breath came from Cas and Dean used the moment to bite down onto Cas' collarbone, taking him by surprise. Cas yelped, bucking his hips unto Dean's, searching for friction that Dean gladly gave.

"Dean," Cas growled pathetically, his threatening tone softened as a whimper escaped his lips. Dean was reminded that this was Castiel's first time; first everything. He continued his ministrations, but Cas' hands found his hair and yanked him back up to eye-level, claiming him in another bruising kiss. When they broke apart, Cas ground out wantonly again.

"Dean, bed. Now." He commanded, only it was undermined by his flushed cheeks and wavering voice.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay sweetheart." He replied, manhandling Cas to the bed so Cas was underneath him. Cas began desperately tugging at his jacket before Dean let it slide off his shoulders. He loosened Cas' tie and shoved his own shirt off him. Returning to Cas' tie, he pulled at the knot, tugging Cas upwards in another kiss, this one sweet and slow, taking his time to explore, relishing in the moment.

But apparently Cas had other ideas; a small whine escaped his throat and he pulled back, starting to quickly rid himself of his trench coat and jacket. Once he'd succeeded, he started on unbuttoning his shirt, only to have Dean's hand stop him. Cas looked up, confused, but Dean smiled in reassurance before using the tie to pull him closer again. Once they were flush together and sitting upright, breathing in each other's air. Dean began slowly unbuttoning Cas' shirt, his forehead touching to Cas' cheek. He could feel Cas' breathy pants against his face and soon, when he had shucked off Cas' shirt and looped him out of his tie, Cas gripped Dean's hair again and kissed him desperately, need and want and something else entirely pouring into the kiss. Dean groaned loudly, clutching at Cas' side and neck, and continued to kiss as Dean lowered them back again. He broke apart and rolled his hips down on Cas', making him groan and bite his lip deliciously, eyes screwing shut for a moment before snapping open to Dean's.

As if only just now remembering that he was an angel, Cas tilted his head and both their pants and underwear were gone, leaving them both naked. Dean had to halt his movements at the skin to skin contact to let out a low moan.

"Dean," Cas breathed out again, this time with a hand on his chest. Dean pulled away, and this time it was Cas who was smiling in reassurance. He moved up the bed, sitting up, and his eyes portrayed something vulnerable. Cas closed them, concentrating, before white light flashed before his eyes and suddenly there were wings spanning out across the room, dark and beautiful.

"Cas," He whispered, wanting nothing more than to touch them. Cas' eyes had opened again, and looked nervous. He reached out and took Dean's hand, leading it towards his wings.

"It's okay – you can touch them." He consented, and Dean cautiously flitted his hand over his wings, finding them soft and silky, feathers sliding through his fingers easily. He brought his other hand up and running them through the soft feathers, taking pleasure in in the feeling. It took him a while to realise Cas was shaking, and biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

"Cas?" He questioned playfully, tugging on the feathers a little. This time Cas couldn't contain his sounds and he moaned, cock twitching in desire. Cas grabbed one of Dean's hands and, keeping his eyes fixed on Dean's, stuck three of his fingers into his mouth, surprising and arousing Dean simultaneously. It was just about the hottest thing Dean had ever seen, the feeling of Cas' tongue sweeping and sucking his fingers made him think of other dirtier, hotter things Cas could do with his mouth. He jerked at Cas' feathers and Cas moaned around his fingers, making Dean almost come right there.

Swallowing, he gently pulled his fingers from Cas' delicious mouth and moved between his thighs, but not before giving Cas one more kiss. Dean laid kisses along Cas' lower stomach, and swirled his tongue round, eliciting moans and whines from Cas. Dean nipped at his prominent hip bones, slicked hand encircling Cas' hole, drawing another gasp from Cas. He kept up his exploration of Cas' hips with his teeth and tongue as his finger entered Cas. He worked his finger around, and, as Cas' constricted breaths started to ease into pleasured pants Dean entered another ne this time looking up at Cas and stroking his dick lightly as to distract him from the burning stretch.

Cas looked gorgeous, torn between bucking up into Dean's hand or grinding down onto his fingers. Every move causing him to moan or gasp, body shamelessly writhing under his touch, innocent eyes wide with confused desire. When Dean began scissoring his fingers he brushed over his prostate and Cas howled in want, hands curling into the sheets, groaning repeatedly as Dean continued to press against it.

"Dean," He cried out, breathless and needy and desperately perfect. He pulled his fingers out, enjoying Cas' disappointed whine before shoving them back in again. Cas let out a startled groan before yelling, "Yes, yes, Dean. Just – please," He begged, body twisting and writhing as Dean's hand closed around his cock and began jerking him off.

"Dean! Dean, I need-" he broke off on another guttural moan from Dean's third finger entering him. Dean had to bite back a groan at Cas' pleads, trying to hold off on his own needs, wanting to get Cas off once first before entering him.

"What do you need, Cas?" He asked innocently, voice low and wicked. Cas shook his head, as if unable to speak, and a twist at the head of Cas' dick made him jerk up again.

"C'mon, Cas. I can't give you what you need unless you tell me."

Cas opened his previously screwed shut eyes and fixed them on Dean. His cheeks were flushed in want, eyes blown wide in desire he didn't entirely understand, voice shaking with need as he replied, "Dean, I need you – please I need you to- Oh, I don't know, I don't…I just need, p-please…no!" He cried out in panic at Dean's hand falling from his cock, misunderstanding his withdrawal.

"Don't worry, baby. I got you, Cas." Dean cooed before grabbing his thighs, increasing the speed of his fingers. Cas' moans got louder before Dean's mouth closed around his cock and that just did it for Cas; jerking his hips up, once, twice, he came with a breathless cry, slumping down on the sheets as Dean swallowed his down.

Pulling off of his spent cock and not allowing Cas any time to recover, Dean yanked his fingers out. He grabbed Cas' hips and, lining himself up, thrust into Cas, slipping past his entrance and into his tight heat with care.

He gave himself a moment once he'd bottomed out, groaning at the constricting warmth around his cock before pulling out and slamming back in. He drew the angel up so he was sitting in his lap, legs wrapping around Dean's lower. Cas grabbed at Dean's hair and shoulders, desperately trying to find something to hold onto while Dean began mercilessly thrusting into him. Dean tangled his fingers into Cas' wings, jolting them back every time he pounded into Cas, who was still over-stimulated from his orgasm. He whimpered and gasped in please, fingers curling into Dean's shoulder as he hit his prostate.

"Dean, Dean, Dean," He chanted, regaining his composure enough to grind down and rock back into Dean's thrusts. Dean was losing control, groans turning to breathless, and barely-there cries of pleasure as he continued to pound into Cas, claiming him, owning him, fucking him.

He felt himself drawing near, the pressure building and building, and he wrapped a hand around Cas' still sensitive but hard and leaking dick, jacking him off in time to his thrusts. Cas cried out and the fingers to his back dug into his flesh. Cas removed one to place over the handprint he'd made when he'd rescued him from the Pit, and Dean felt an overpowering bliss flood through his senses, and he bit down onto Cas' collarbone as he came, drawing a wrecked cry from the angel before he threw his head back and came for the second time that night, cum spurting over Dean's stomach and chest.

Cas was still riding out the aftershocks of his orgasm, contentedly rocking into Dean before slumping against his lover's body, spent and sated.

After they both stopped shaking, Dean lowered them back down to the bed, slipping out of Cas – which earned him a disappointed whine from his angel. Dean smiled and let Cas nestle himself against him, Dean too exhausted to do anything and Cas too sated and content to need to move just yet. So for now, they enjoyed the warm embrace of each other's bodies and what it meant for them, knowing tomorrow they would talk, and Dean would go to Sam to patch things up and Cas would continue his search for God. But right now, Dean let himself be happy, for the man he loved was lying in his arms and protected from that future that was no longer possible for them.


	7. Weightless

**This one is a little bit of a filler, but important in establishing the Dean/Cas relationship**

**More updates soon! **

* * *

Dean didn't awaken the next morning so much as slip into awareness, his eyes remaining closed as he lingered in the space between dreaming and awakening, allowing his brain to catch up on the last 24 hours. Fragments of memories flashed through his mind of a future he was desperate to avoid, of Castiel in pain and laughing mirthlessly in a way that terrified Dean more than any monster ever could, of Sam – Sam but not Sam, Lucifer and the soul-trembling words that still echoed through his subconscious;

_Whatever you do, you will always end up here. Whatever choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up… here._

_I win, so…_

_I win._

And suddenly, as the words ricocheted through his bones, Dean was drowning, suffocating with all his doubts and fears and despairs crashing down around him, crushing his depth in a devastating example of his own mortality, and he felt himself panicking, shaking with the hard and heavy weight that held him down. He sucked in a relief of air but it proved useless in sustaining any sense of stableness in his body. It was worse than the nights when he'd woken up, shaking in cold sweat, from a nightmare of his time in the Pit because they were of things in the past, something that had already happened, something tangible. _This, _this inevitable and undecided future that was thrust upon him – he couldn't control that, didn't know how to stop it, couldn't-

And just as he felt his breath running out, there were lips on his, breathing life and air into him, lifting the burden from his shoulders, and Dean clung to it, needing the serenity that followed the touch of lips to his. When they pulled back, he tried chasing them, opening his eyes to _blue. _

Castiel's searing gaze met his, and Dean felt himself caught in the rapture of his devotion. Streams of morning sunlight seeping through black wings pooling around Cas' body, enveloping him in an aura of light that made him really look like an angel of Grace. Faintly, he could feel silky feathers caressing his side, and when he looked up there were ebony feathers encasing them both.

He didn't spend too much time lingering on the perfection of waking up to Cas, instead pulling the angel to him, searching out his lips, craving more of that weightlessness that accompanied his touch. Cas went willingly, seeming to sense his need and returning it with his own, kissing back with a deftness that was solely Castiel. More reminiscences flooded his mind, this time of pulling and touching, of lips and fingers and skin on skin touch, of lust and love combining together to create a single moment of pure intimacy.

Finally, finally, Dean felt himself calming down, the feel of Cas against him erasing his earlier panic, replacing it with a content feeling that Dean didn't want to let go of, not just yet. So when he pulled away, it wasn't far, and he kept Cas in his arms to look down at the angel.

He sought out Cas' hand, entwining their fingers together and kissing it, holding it close to his heart. Dean placed a kiss to the angel's forehead, holding him closer, a silent _thank you _being conveyed in the embrace.

Cas looked up at him, understanding as always, before giving him one of his almost-smiles. "Hello, Dean." He greeted, voice rougher than usual, and Dean thought it had to be on purpose, because Cas didn't sleep and any damage done to his voice from screaming his name the night before wouldn't have had any effect on him.

"Mornin' angel," he smiled, and Cas tilted his head, but refrained from commenting. Dean looked down at their entangled bodies to find them clean, and realised Cas must have mojo'd them clean while he was sleeping. He smiled briefly at that, looking down at Castiel in his sunlit wonder and felt himself fall in love with him all over again. Cas must have sensed his thoughts – damned angels – and he chanced a brief glance up at him before mouthing kisses at his chest, snagging a nipple before moving higher, nibbling at his collarbone, nipping once at his jaw, attention centred at Dean, and only Dean. Even the simplest caresses of his hands to his arms or sides held a deeper meaning and whispered promises against his skin had Dean wondering if he was in heaven already. Finally Cas reached his lips, capturing them in a gentle, tender kiss as he manoeuvred himself over Dean.

"I love you too," Cas whispered against his lips, blue eyes seeking green, catching them, holding them, and Dean couldn't tear himself away even if he wanted to. His hands skimmed up Cas' side, sliding over his shoulders and coming to slide through the angel's brown hair, bringing him down in another kiss. It was the first time Cas had said it, after Dean had told him that night in the beautiful room where everything had been messy and desperate, and Dean found himself wanting to tell Cas again that he loved him, because this time it would be untainted and returned with an assurance that Dean hadn't had the privilege of feeling the first time.

But now wasn't the time for words, so Dean told him in his touch, in the way he held Cas to his body, or the way he caught Cas' bottom lip right before he pulled away, as if savouring his touch on final time before they separated. He conveyed it in the way he slid his hand over Cas' thighs in comfort and reassurance as a finger encircled Cas' hole, already slicked up with angel mojo'd lube thank you very much. He relented it in his careful exploration of Cas' skin as the angel panted and whined at Dean's fingers fucking into him with no abandon.

It was written in the perfect way they fit together as Cas sunk down onto his cock, hands grasping Dean's chest for balance as he shook with the feeling of being so full. It could be found in the illustration of finger-shaped bruises forming on Cas' sharp hips from Dean's desperate grip as he tried to set a pace, and it was heard in Dean's moans when Cas rendered his attempts futile by frantically lifting himself and slamming down on his dick repeatedly. It was seen in Cas' wild, beautiful movements as he let himself go on Dean, and it was obvious in the way Dean relinquished his control, for Cas, only for Cas. And it was felt in both of them as they brought themselves over the edge together, the act becoming one of give and take, push and pull, a slip and slide of skin and teeth and mouth.

* * *

"So," Dean brought forth, absentmindedly running his hands over Cas' arms. He let the word hang, looking to Cas uselessly for help. They needed to talk, about…something. Them, probably, but he didn't know what specifically, and he wasn't sure how to bring about a conversation that he wasn't sure where it was headed.

Cas had been busy tracing patterns that he suspected were Enochian into Dean's skin, but at Dean's hesitant nature, his hand stilled. He looked up at him, blue eyes piercing into his as if trying to get a read on him before he smiled, an actual smile, and rolled on top of Dean again, straddling his waist, wings spread out across the motel room. He leaned down to kiss Dean, chaste and sweet before pulling away to look at him.

"You're worried." He stated, head tilted, as if waiting for Dean to elaborate.

Dean hesitated again, unsure how to proceed. "Uh- um," he swallowed and cleared his throat, searching for the right words. "Yeah; I'm worried. I'm worried about Sam and the apocalypse and I'm worried about us and that damned future that Zachariah showed me and I can't-" He broke off, frustrated, tears caught in his throat.

Cas frowned a little, showing he was serious. "Dean," He started, twining their hands together and grasping it tight. "What did you see in the future?" He enquired, worried but steady, determined.

Dean shook his head, but he began to tell him anyway. "It was- Croatoan virus. That's how he did it. Lucifer had- Sam said yes, and I wasn't there to stop it." He breathed, shaky with guilt. "And- you weren't an Angel anymore, Cas. You were human, and you were broken and so damn far from okay and I- I couldn't stop that either. The me from 2014, he led you into a trap. He- _I _left you there to die, and then Lucifer said that no matter what I did I couldn't stop it, and…" he trailed off, tears burning in his eyes, and he tried to blink them away.

"Dean," Castiel spoke, tightening his hold on Dean's hands. "I know. The Angels – we were all informed of what would happen should you continue to say no to Michael." He leaned closer, making sure Dean was watching. "But it's not the right thing to do. And it will not happen. Because you, and Sam will not waver and_ I _will not waver." He insisted, and Dean was pretty certain he could believe him.

"So what happens now?" He swallowed. "I go off and patch things up with Sam and you go off on the God hunt and we…" he trailed of, unsure what to say. What _would_ happen to them once they parted ways from the motel room?

"That is exactly what will happen. Except…" He trailed off, letting his eyes roam over Dean before meeting his gaze again. "We will continue this relationship, but, as I mentioned before – we're making it up as we go."

It wasn't a specific solution; Dean knew that. But it was something, and he could deal with that. He leant up and kissed Castiel again, holding him tight against his body, letting the lightness take over him again.


	8. Heavenly Shadows

**Hey, so apologies for taking so long to update i wasn't sure if i wanted to post this one yet or not - i know this chapter isn't very plotty either, but I started to make Dean leave but Castiel kinda got away from me and convinced him to stay awhile longer - but i (hopefully) made up for it by giving you some Cas POV in this one! **

* * *

Dean eventually left the bed, and it was only once he removed himself from Cas' warm embrace to get his clothes did he realise how abrupt this all must have been to Cas. To him, only the day before, Dean had hung up on him and rejected his company – for sleep, in Dean's defence – and then, only four hours later, Dean just decided to kiss the daylights out of him, before proceeding to take his virginity – _and then some_ - without any explanation. He guessed Cas must have picked his brain enough to know he'd been sent to the future by Zachariah, but Dean liked to entertain the thought that Cas had been too distracted for much else.

He looked to the angel resting on the bed serenely, still undressed and seeming in no hurry to leave even as Dean began to slip on his jacket, and the hunter felt a surge of _something _build up in his chest, washing over him in such a way that made Dean reconsider leaving so soon. That, and the delicious amount of skin that he was exposed to as Cas sat up and stretched out his wings, tilting his head at the hunter. Damn it was taking him everything not to sink back into Cas – an insistent need pressed at Dean's mind, demanding more of that angelic touch.

Castiel's eyes darkened, indicating he felt the same. Still, Dean resisted. He needed to talk to Sam – not just about hunting together again, though that was important; Sam had always suspected he had feelings for Castiel that lied beyond the confinements of camaraderie – heck, he was there when Jimmy had revealed that Castiel loved him, had witnessed his reaction live. But Dean was still anxious of telling his brother that he and Castiel were…intimate, to say the least. He knew Sam would never judge or shun him of course, but Castiel was an angel – he'd threatened Dean with Sam's life more times than Dean liked to think of. But they'd grown from that place, Castiel had changed, Sam had changed, _they all _had changed eminently since those dark times. Not that the times were any better now.

Arms around his middle and a naked chest pressed up against his back threw him from his troubles. He turned in Castiel's arms and smiled, bending down to kiss the angel, giving in to the divine temptation that was all Cas. As the angel's naked body moved against Dean's clothed one, he reasoned that they had a few more hours before it was time to go.

With that thought running through his mind, Dean moved Cas backwards till he was pressed up against the wall, erection constrained against the proximity of their bodies. Dean ran his hands over Cas' ribs, down to his hips, clutching there as he lay marks upon the angel's neck and collarbone. Cas' hands found refuge in Dean's hair, the short strands slipping through his fingers as a hand enclosed around his dick, slowly stroking the head with light, teasing touches that had Castiel whining and growling all at once. His hands left Dean's hair in favour of his shoulders as Dean hoisted Castiel up and carried him to the bed. He wanted to explore Cas' body, mark every crevasse until it was painted with claims.

- CAS

Castiel was breathing hard, every nerve, every cell, every part of his body alight and thrumming with untapped energy. He felt hands ghosting over his skin, barely-there touches to his hips, nipples, collarbone, everywhere Dean could touch, as if he were blind, plotting Castiel's body like he would a map, finding every sensitive point and weak spot that Castiel didn't know existed to begin with. Soon his mouth joined his hands in their careful exploration of Cas, and he couldn't help but arch into every touch, wanting more than the light, teasing strokes that Dean was bestowing upon him.

But he took every pleasure as it came, however unsettled, because he could _feel _it_. _He was hyper aware of everything; Dean's thumb rubbing circles into Castiel's nipple in striking contradiction to the almost painful tightness in which Dean clasped his cock in; the lightning shocks of bliss that echoed through him, right to his Grace, as Dean's hand continued stroking, taking him apart piece by piece; the aberrant drop of sweat that ran down his chest and his laboured breathing from gasping out Dean's name in underlying pleads of _more, please, more_; the feel of Dean's breath against his hip bone right before delicious pain as teeth bit into sensitive skin, and then soft lips pressing over reddened flesh as if in condolence to the harsh treatment. This act had Castiel experiencing a wonder of various emotions and sensations, all of them connected and intertwining in such a way that Castiel had never experienced before yesterday, never _dreamed _of that could be so fundamentally and blatantly _good_, and he never wanted it to end. Deans' hands and mouth everywhere, breaking him apart only to build him back up and start all over again.

Castiel choked off on a moan when a mouth closed around his dick, unable to breathe at the constricting warmth that surrounded him. His wings thrashed behind him, knocking over lampshades and battering against the wall, as if trying to fly away, the vibrating sensation of Dean humming around him the only thing holding him there. He was all over the place, unable to contain himself nor his needy whines from the delightful pleasure that had been unknown to him before last night.

It was surreal, the all consuming-ness of it making Cas' head feel light, dizzy and drunk on the sensations that buzzed through him. As an angel, he felt everything through a filter, and even then angels weren't meant to feel anything; nothing but purpose or faith, and Castiel had been stripped of those the moment he'd laid eyes on Dean's soul. Every moment since then with the hunter had left Castiel breathless with the assault of emotions trying to break through. He still remembered the first emotion he'd experienced - awe. It had washed over him in a wave of unexpectedness when he touched Dean's soul, which, however tainted, broken or wrath-filled the demons had tried twisting it, remained bright, brighter than any soul, any being, any angelic light that Castiel had ever looked upon. It burned to the core with Dean's essence, and when he'd come into contact with it, that light seeped into him, consuming him, and Castiel _felt, _and he thought it wonderful. His charge's actions and words after he pulled him from the Abyss only furthered Castiel's fall into a being that wasn't quite angelic, but not all human either. Caught in the crossfires of heaven and humanity, every touch grounding Castiel further into Earth, closer to Dean, nearer to a mortality that both frightened and thrilled him.

Pulled so dreadfully in two ways, torn in his new-found emotions, the base of wings ached, and Castiel couldn't think why he suddenly wanted nothing more than to pull at them, tear them out - yet at the same time he needed them, wanted to keep them there so desperately; if he continued this path, he knew they would fade away, disappear as surely as his powers would. His confusion and frustration burned within him, but he swallowed it, burying it down in favour for Dean's hands, his mouth, his touch. He didn't want to think right now. He didn't want to do anything but let Dean strip him bare of any rational thought, till he wasn't capable of thoughts other than _Dean_ and _please _and _more._

Then the warmth around his dick was gone, and Castiel whimpered from the loss, hearing Dean chuckle in response before a tongue pressed against his entrance. All the breath in his body rushed out and he jerked in response to the treatment, closing his eyes and trying to regain his composure. His attempts were fruitless though, as Dean continued to prod and swipe his hole with no mercy, making Cas writhe underneath him with the assault of pleasure that raced through his body, nerves on fire and burning almost painfully through him.

"Dean- D-dean!" He shouted, pleaded and demanded, all at once, desperate and frustrated at the teasing pace that had been set, allowing him just enough pleasure to enjoy it, but not nearly enough to get off, held on the brink, right on the edge of what he was desperately after.

Amidst the distraction of Castiel's cries and begs for more, Dean moved away from him, and when Castiel opened his eyes they were met with green ones that shined bright with his beautiful soul, and Cas paused for a moment in fitting awe to gaze upon them, before both eyes flicked shut at Dean slamming into him, filling Cas with the pure sensation of Dean's cock buried to the hilt inside of him. _Finally._

Cas let his hands be captured by each of Dean's, twining his fingers with the hunters. Then Dean was driving into Cas' body with such force his head was thrown back into the pillows, but he couldn't bring himself to care; not when Dean was hitting his prostate over and over - not when he was so electrically, delectably _full, _and bursting with emotion. He couldn't contain his cries of Dean's name, whimpering, groaning and screaming it in languages unknown, as if his name was a prayer that he didn't want to stop preaching in each and every way. He breathed the hunter's name, each rush of air that blew out of him formed _Dean, _because his whole being, down to his very core, was laser focused on him; his green eyes and flushed cheeks and freckles that spread across his nose and cheeks like stars, and Cas wanted to map them, form constellations with his fingers across Dean's skin. Nothing, _nothing_, could compare to this.

And then, when he was too strung out to think, to be aware of anything but green eyes and the wonderful contact of his Dean's skin to his, a recognizable heat pooled in his abdomen. It spiraled up and around him like a wave, until it washed over him in a final crescendo of pleasure, his orgasm ripping through him like the tides did the sand on every break of the shore. He was still whimpering, body determined to make the most of the feeling, wringing out of every last drop of pleasure from Dean. He clenched around his lover, and felt warm liquid coat his insides as Dean came too, groaning breathlessly against Castiel's cheek. Dean slipped out of him, leaving him uncomfortably empty. But then arms were encircling him, holding him tight. He nuzzled the hunter's cheek, feeling an ache of stubble there, and he savoured the texture. He wasn't sleepy – angels never were – and Dean didn't look like it either, but they were content in where they were for the moment, savouring their little infinity for as long as they were able.

Castiel knew, whatever it was that had to come to pass, he would remember this moment, lost and found at Dean's side. The walls of the hotel bedroom could not hold his wings, and it brought about a faraway memory of the times he had yearned for freedom from the confinements of duty and purpose - chained to heaven like a puppet to his master. Ordered by a nameless and untouchable unknown to inflict heavenly wrath upon those who they deemed sinful, and punished by the same anonymous entity over and over for refusing to follow commands. The shadows that resided in the corners of sanctity were infinitely more obscure and wicked than any darkness that could be found in Perdition. Evil pillaged, tortured, harmed and killed in the name of evil; their intent was forthright and fundamental to malevolence. They were predictably, simply and truly corrupt. The virtuous, the righteous, the _holy_ – they claimed to be opposite; they named themselves the epitome of morality and justice. But the _'justice'_ they'd inflicted – the justice _he'd_ witnessed, had both enforced and experienced, in the name of _'good'_ – Castiel couldn't discern it from that of evil's punishment. To him, they were two sides of the same coin, and he could no longer tell which side he wanted to be on, which side was better.

But as Castiel turned his head to look at Dean, who was resting peacefully beside him, he realised that perhaps none was superior to the other; both sides had become something he couldn't have faith in. But _humanity_ – humanity never claimed to be anything other than what it was; flawed, imperfect, greedy; but undoubtedly they were so much more. They had a greater sense of right and wrong than both angels and demons alike. They tried, and even against all odds, they never gave up, never gave in. Humanity could be selfish, but they could also be altruistic; amongst seas of black and white and good and evil, humanity filled in the grey areas that both Heaven and Hell refused to acknowledge. The cracks between what was right and what was wrong were complete with humanity's presence. Castiel had faith in _them_, and he had faith in Dean.

Above all, they had achieved something neither side of the penny ever could - freedom. And in Dean's arms, he felt that freedom which had been out of his grasp for centuries, the liberty and choice that which was barred from angels. Cas swore to cling to it, to never let it slip from his fingers.

It was this vow that would see to bring upon his ruin.

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**Hope you enjoyed! If you did, leave a review, i would be overjoyed to read it :P**

**I promise the storyline will now move along as planned by myself, so new plotty chapters should be up soon!**


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